Survival of the Fakest

Chapter One:

Fittest or Fakest?

Have you ever just sat somewhere and looked around the room? Not stare, or glance, or spy but observe. No? Well I have, in fact I am doing it now, my house is small, and the fact that there were five other people didn't help -well four now- but that didn't make any difference, there were still too many people, and not enough bedrooms, showers, TVs, food, or space for that matter. And I hated it, but my opinion didn't matter, I may as well have not had one, because even though my house had only two bedrooms, and one living room, and a whole lot of cramped space, it also housed a whole lot of secrets -(and hatred and ignorance, too). Secrets I didn't know about, but was aware existed, and others I suspected but still didn't know, because that's how my family worked. We communicated when necessary, and we put on a smile for the public, because to my father the worse that could happen was further embarrassment to him and his "family". At my house everything revolved around him and my sister, and money, and of course the crack-whore of a women whose name happened to be on my birth certificate, by nothing more than coincidence. My family was and is all about "tough love", always has been, but the funny thing was, is that honestly I don't think I really "love" any of them, that word has became more of a formality to me now more than anything. That's sad some would say, but is it really? I mean sure your parents brought you into this world, but most because they wanted to create beautiful life, not mine, they wanted slaves that would do their "dirty" work, or any work for that matter. I mean don't get me wrong, when they started out I'm sure they were just like every other couple, well at least my dad was, seeing as at that time he was blissfully unaware, of my "mothers" true ways, but just the same, he has changed too. Over the years he has hardened, and I suppose I understand, but I honestly just don't care. See being stuck in his never ending self-involved pity party, is rather annoying, especially since he doesn't even realize he's throwing this party. I suppose somewhere deep down he has some sort of fatherly love for me and my sisters, but I suspect they are more for them, and less towards me. I mean I'm not walk in the park either, I've got my issues, but the majority of them stem from my family, I mean I've made some mistakes, but I've fixed them, and learned from them, unfortunately my father has looked at me differently ever since, but that's "daddy" for you. But you know what that doesn't even phase me anymore -or at least that's what I tell people, or act like, just so I can get through the day. That's the hardest part isn't it? The day? The part of your life that happens anywhere from 8-12 hours where you have to put on a facade, just to let people believe you are at least half human. When really all you are is dead inside, but you can't let it show, because then they will see all your weak spots and attack, because that's how the world works. It's the simplest concept known by man and beast; survival of the fittest - or in this case, the survival of the fakest- and this is my story of how I survive.